After leaving Bruce's hotel and getting back into his car, Christopher Ritt sat there for a moment in thought. Then he pulled out his second phone, scrolled through the contact list, found a familiar number, and dialed.
"Barry, do you have a minute?"
"Christopher, I always have time for you."
The voice on the other end was a little hoarse.
Christopher smiled.
Ever since Harry Potter had exploded across the world, he had become exactly the kind of man every major publisher wanted to stay close to.
"Good. I'm coming to your office now. And I want that 1990 bottle of Romanée-Conti you've been hiding."
"Oh, Christopher, you greedy little Shylock. That bottle cost me eighty thousand pounds at Christie's."
Then the man's tone changed immediately.
"That said, if you're bringing me Rowling's fifth Harry Potter book, I'd be delighted to open my best bottle for you."
"Rowling's still writing Book Five. But what I'm bringing you this time won't disappoint."
Christopher sounded full of confidence.
"Oh? So you've found something new."
"I'm already on my way. I'll be there in about twenty minutes."
Christopher did not answer the question directly.
"Then I'll have the wine breathing by the time you arrive."
"See you soon."
"See you."
...
"Romanée-Conti really is impossible to resist."
Christopher emptied the deep red wine from his glass in one go, then looked at Barry Cunningham, who still seemed completely absorbed in the three manuscripts in front of him.
"Barry, it's been three hours. That's not enough time to finish all three books, but with your experience as a senior editor at Bloomsbury, it's more than enough time to form a fair opinion."
He set the glass down, and his tone sharpened.
"So. Shall we talk?"
Barry let out a breath and nodded.
As close as they were, business was still business.
"Christopher, for Pirates of the Caribbean and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Bloomsbury is willing to acquire the rights. We can offer a five-thousand-pound advance on each, plus an eight percent royalty. But Fifty Shades of Grey..." He pushed the manuscript aside. "That one doesn't suit our list."
Christopher frowned.
"Barry, we've known each other for five years. Don't feed me the sort of lines you use on strangers. Bloomsbury's core business is paperback commercial fiction and children's books. I don't see how Fifty Shades suddenly doesn't fit."
Barry sighed.
"Christopher, I'll be blunt. Fifty Shades of Grey reads like a third-rate erotic novel written by a third-rate writer for drifters and fetishists in some back-alley Notting Hill market. I don't see any real market for it at all. And frankly, with your standards, I can't believe you actually signed something like this."
Christopher had no good answer for that.
Thinking back to his conversations with Bruce, and to how seriously he seemed to take Fifty Shades, Christopher asked again,
"Barry, is there really no way to publish it?"
"Christopher, you know how this works. Bloomsbury isn't mine to run alone. Even if I signed off on it for your sake, Rosa in marketing would never approve it. And you know what she's like. She worships the Iron Lady."
Christopher knew exactly who he meant.
Rosa Mond.
Bloomsbury's marketing chief.
A woman famous for rigid discipline, hard opinions, and a management style modeled after Margaret Thatcher. Christopher had no doubt that if Fifty Shades landed on her desk, she would mock him mercilessly and throw the pages back in his face.
After a while, with no better answer in mind, Christopher gave up.
"All right. Keep the three manuscripts for now. Finish them, and if you change your mind, call me."
Barry nodded.
"I'll read everything. But you shouldn't get your hopes up about Fifty Shades."
"I know."
Christopher stood.
"I should go."
"I'll walk you out."
...
The next day, after finishing his review of Christopher's edits and making his own notes, Bruce returned to Ritt Literary Agency with the revised manuscripts.
But it was obvious that Christopher's attention was somewhere else.
"Bruce, is there any chance Fifty Shades of Grey can be published separately from Pirates and Fantastic Beasts?"
Bruce frowned.
"Why?"
Christopher gave a bitter smile.
"Since yesterday, I've contacted six major British publishers, including Bloomsbury and Random House. All of them are willing to offer strong terms for Pirates and Fantastic Beasts. But their reaction to Fifty Shades..." He shook his head.
He didn't need to finish the sentence.
Bruce already understood.
And honestly, he wasn't surprised.
In the future, Fifty Shades had first exploded online before being bought and pushed into the global market by a major house. Even then, it was attacked relentlessly by critics. Without that early internet momentum, it was no wonder that traditional editors with strong literary tastes looked at it and saw nothing more than a blunt, heavy-handed erotic novel.
Seeing Bruce fall silent, Christopher hesitated.
"I think it would be easier if Pirates and Fantastic Beasts came out first. Once you've established yourself as a recognized author, Fifty Shades will be much easier to sell."
Bruce didn't answer directly.
Instead, he asked, "Christopher, if Pirates and Fantastic Beasts are published, what kind of sales do you think they can reach?"
Christopher thought about it carefully before answering.
"Pirates of the Caribbean should clear at least two million sets worldwide in its first year. Fantastic Beasts should do at least eight million copies."
Clearly, he had more confidence in Fantastic Beasts, mostly because of its connection to Harry Potter.
Bruce nodded.
"Pirates is three books. Total cover price, forty-five dollars. At two million sets, that's ninety million dollars in sales. Fantastic Beasts at twenty dollars a copy and eight million copies comes to one hundred sixty million."
He looked at Christopher.
"At the top rate, I'd be entitled to fifteen percent royalties. That's thirty-seven and a half million dollars. Minus your five percent commission, and then roughly thirty-five percent in personal income tax, I'd still clear around twenty-two and a half million. Did I get that right?"
Christopher had no idea where Bruce was going with this, but after thinking it through, he nodded.
"That's about right."
Bruce leaned back, completely calm.
"In that case, if I borrow ten million pounds from you right now against the first year's expected earnings from those two titles, you shouldn't have any objection. I'll pay market terms. Four and a half percent interest."
Christopher stared at him.
For a moment, he was genuinely speechless.
"Bruce... you're serious?"
Bruce looked at him without blinking.
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
Once Christopher was certain he wasn't, he could only shake his head and laugh bitterly.
"Bruce, I honestly can't tell whether I'm sitting across from a promising young writer or a terrifyingly calculating businessman."
"I'm both."
Christopher nodded slowly, then thought it over and shook his head.
"Bruce, I understand the future value of Pirates and Fantastic Beasts as well as you do, and your ask isn't outrageous. But I'm a literary agent with a good reputation, not a financier from Wall Street or the City. Ten million pounds is far beyond what I can put together."
Bruce wasn't disappointed.
In any negotiation, you started high so there was room to come down.
"All right. Eight million, then. Come on, Christopher. You're Harry Potter's agent. Don't tell me you can't come up with that much."
Christopher rolled his eyes.
"Harry Potter may be a phenomenon, but I only get five percent of Rowling's royalties. And who keeps that much cash sitting around?"
Bruce didn't let up.
"What's the absolute most you can lend me?"
Christopher thought for a while.
"Three million pounds."
"Six million. Christopher, you're my agent. We're tied together now. If I'm in trouble, you're supposed to help."
Christopher ground his teeth.
"Five million. I can lend you five million pounds. But first you tell me what on earth you want it for."
Bruce smiled the moment he heard that.
"It's simple. If no publisher wants to put out Fifty Shades of Grey, then I'll just buy a publisher and release it myself."
If the eighty million dollars he had borrowed from Citibank hadn't already been tied up in football betting, he never would have needed to borrow from Christopher at all.